Give him a try
by emimix3
Summary: Arthur Kirkland is an English journalist, living happily by himself between work, his band and dates. Yes, it's before his American cousin send him her fifteen-year-old annoying son, because "everything is better with a British education..."
1. Prologue

Hello everyone !

So, this is my first fanfiction in English ! I won't ask you to be more indulgent because of that, but on the contrary, if you could point any grammatical or conjugation mistake... By the way, I'm looking for a beta-reader, native in English, who would be willing to help me about any question about everyday life, idioms or language.

Chapters will be longer than the prologue, don't worry. And the storyline won't be as original as my other stories, but I want to improve my English before doing anything too complicated. I hope it won't be too cliché, though... Romance and dramatic stuff won't be the main plot of the story. It will mostly be humour... Well, I'll try. It's hard when it's not your language.

(Pour ceux qui me suivent du fandom français, j'ai voulu essayer d'écrire en anglais, pour changer, et surtout pour m'améliorer, parce que c'est pas joli-joli. Je ne la traduirai pas en français. Donc, si vous parlez pas un mot d'anglais, c'est pas un chef-d'oeuvre d'originalité que vous raterez, et si vous parlez anglais et que vous lisez, c'est cool, et si vous lisez pas, je ne vous en tiendrai pas rigueur. La suite de "Sheol" et "Vacances ?" arrive, au passage. Je vous biche mes biches)

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><p>Arthur was late. Late to go back home.<p>

This is possible, even when you live alone and without a cat.

He had to get back home, put his stuff and the groceries somewhere, check his e-mails for work, get changed, went in search of his black tie (and tie it _properly_), call a taxi and arrive in time at his date, who was in…

Three minutes ago.

Well, it's not like punctuality was is strong point. At least, the same went for his date.

So, Arthur was running in the streets of London's suburbs, bumping into old ladies and kids. He wasn't a gentleman anymore right now. His only goal was going to his date, and not too late if it was possible.

Eventually, he reached his building. He rushed in the upstairs, and climbed to the third story in no time, his cellphone in mouth and searching in vain his keys in his pockets. Fortunately, nobody ever hung out on this landing.

Mmh. Fortunately, nobody ever hung out on this landing. _Usually._

But just _this _time, a teenager was sitting right in front of his door.

"Er… Who the fuck are you ?"

Bad idea. The cellphone was still in his mouth. Now on the floor, and the battery flew in an unknown space.

"Hell…"  
>"Fail !" the teenager shouted, smiling happily.<br>"Oh, shut the fuck up ! I don't have time ! And why the hell are you sitting in front of my flat ?" yelled Arthur, searching for his battery.  
>"Hinhin… 'Flat'…" the teen smirked.<br>"Kid, get the fuck out of here before I stab you.", Arthur threatened, loosing his patience.  
>"Okay. So, tell me where I can find 'Arthur Kirkland'."<br>"I am", said Arthur answered, finally with his battery.

The teenager looked at the man walking to the door, an awful look on his face.

"No you're not."  
>"Er… Yes I am ? I guess I still know my name, kid. And what do you even want ?"<br>"No you're not."  
>"And why the bloody hell wouldn't I be myself ?" asked Arthur while opening the door.<br>"I don't want you to be."  
>"Ok, if it's only that… Sorry, kid, but I have things to do. So, goo-"<br>"Hey, wait !"

The teenager ran into the flat, his big bag on his shoulder. Arthur just looked at him with incomprehension.

"I have to stay with you."  
>"The hell…?"<br>"My mother told me so."  
>"Your mother ?"<br>"Yes. She told me she was your cousin, or something. I have this letter", said the young blond while giving a crumpled envelope.

Arthur took the letter, knowing that he would regret it later.

_Dear Arthur, _

_It's your favorite American cousin you love so much. It's been a while, isn__n't it ? I guess you're still a crappy "freelance journalist", or whatever you call your state of unemployment, and I think I found a way for you to put a bit of butter on the bread~_

_You're strict and somewhat unfair and rather violent, but you're a good man, Artie, and I know that. You're exactly the kind of person who can help my beloved son… He's such a brat. I mean, he's my sweetie-sweetie treasure, but he's so capricious, impulsive, and self-centered, and a spoilt child like I never seen before ! He has so many problems at school… I think a good British education, given by a true Englishman, would be the best for him. Indeed, you were such a little punk asshole back then, and you straight out to become a perfect gentleman. I want my sweetie-pie to follow your lead. Of course, I will pay you to take care of my honey ! But you'll see, you will ADORE him. He's just so delightful and handsome and smart ! Well, he will be when you will have finished his education._

_Anyway, I hope you're okay with that. Because when you read this letter, I will already have dropped him off at the airport and I will have took my plane to the Seychelles. And after that, I'll go in Bali. And in Thailand. And in Lebanon. I have absolutely no idea where the fuck those countries are. But I need you to watch my sweetheart for a few weeks at least._

_Take care of him, and be careful, he's allergic to peanuts and he doesn't always brush his teeth._

_Love,_

_Your wonderful cousin._

Arthur sighed. He definitely won't be in time for his date.


	2. It will be hard

Hello everyone ! This is the second chapter of "Give him a chance" ! Thank you all for reading~

Thanks "An Unknown Admirer" (thanks for your comment BTW) and SimplySalted for checking, I send you a calendar Monday.

(Pour ceux du fandom français, j'ai menti, la suite de "Vacances" c'est pas pour tout de suite. Ce qui me fout la haine, je veux l'écrire cette suite mais j'y arrive pas. Désolée. "Sheol" vous attends par contre, c'est bien aussi)

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><p>"Sorry, darling… No, please, stop sobbing… No, I didn't 'cancel our date on purpose'… Well, my cousin's son just arrived without prior notice, and he's going to stay at my home for a few weeks. He comes from America, and apparently, he had a few issues in his old school… And knowing his mom, she just needed an excuse to go hitting on men all over the country. Well, I don't know if…"<p>

Arthur disliked arguing over the phone, (especially with someone as stubborn as his date), but it's not like he had the choice. He already hated the guts of this teenager, whose name happened to be Alfred, for being such a cock-block.

"No, I can't Thursday night… Wednesday either… Well, darling, crying won't… Oh, and screw you ! Stop being such a pussy, it won't change anything ! Did both of you decide to get on my nerves tonight ? Just shut up, and call me later, when you decide to stop being a crybaby! Bye !"  
>The British man hung up his cellphone, totally pissed off, and threw it on the sofa, right next to Alfred who was watching the argue with a lot of interest.<br>"Man, you almost hit me!" the teenager shouted.  
>"It's not like I was giving a shit" Arthur grumbled.<br>"You're so fucking ill-mannered dude ! I thought British men all had sticks up in their…"  
>"I may be ill-mannered, but I'm a fucking pissed off thirty-three year old grown man. I'm ill-mannered if I want to be. You're just a fifteen year old git, so don't dare swearing one more bloody time in front of me."<p>

Arthur sprawled in the armchair, wanting nothing but a beer and a lot of silence. He watched Alfred, then, for a few seconds. The teenager seemed to fight against sleep, and wrapped himself in his oversized hoodie that had the name of some school in Chicago written on it.

"Want something to eat ?"  
>"'A hamburger. Is there a McDonald's over here?"<br>"It'll be fish & chips or nothing."  
>"How British… I'm going to love it here"<p>

Arthur smiled, and then grabbed his vest and wallet.

"I'll be back in a few minutes."  
>"'Kay…" Alfred replied, almost asleep already.<p>

It will be hard to live together.

When Arthur came back with the two take-away meals of Fish & Chips , Alfred was watching an episode of Sponge Bob, blinking every three seconds. They ate in silence on the living-room coffee table.

"Where will I sleep?" Alfred asked, yawning.  
>"I'll move the mess in the spare room" Arthur answered lazily, totally absorbed in SpongeBob and Patrick's peregrinations. "Just wondering, but did your mother do any applications for school, or something ?"<br>"'Dunno… I suppose that she didn't bother about it…" sighed the young blond.  
>"I'll ask one of my friends who's a teacher… The school where he works seems cool. But don't say that you're American everywhere you go. You'll get lynched. "<p>

Alfred just groaned, and Arthur motioned the teenager to follow him to the spare room. The British man rapidly removed the single guitar and the various CDs from the bed, putting them next to the door. He took a small glance at the sheets, deeming them as clean enough for the night.

"I'll tidy the room up tomorrow… If you want to have a shower, it's…"

Only a loud snore answered to him. Alfred had thrown himself on the bed, and was already asleep.

"'Night, kid."

* * *

><p>"Time to clean the room up, kiddo !"<br>"… What ?"

Arthur crossed the little room in a few strides, opening the shutters and the windows with a lot of conviction.

"It's nine o'clock, wake up !"  
>"Are you fucking kidding me, old man ?" Alfred shouted, still half asleep.<br>"No. Fucking. Swearing."

The blond teenager sat up in the bad, rubbing his sleepy eyes. Arthur was in front of him, as fresh as a daisy, a broom and a duster in hand. And, now that Alfred was seeing him in the daylight, something was really striking…

"Man… Are those eyebrows or caterpillars ?"

"Want a broom up your arse? If so, carry on that way in this conversation."

Arthur took one of the CDs from the stack next to the door, and put it in the CD player on the chest of drawers.

"You can't tidy up without good music !" the British explained to the rather blasé teenager, whom was still in bed.

He rapidly turned up the volume, ready to have a good time cleaning and start again from scratch with the angry teenager. After all, he shouldn't be this terrible; his bad mood the day before should be because of the travelling to an unknown country, and the obligation to live at the house of someone he didn't know .

"What is this shit ?" Alfred grunted, not decided to leave the bed yet.  
>"This shit ? You're talking about the music ? Bitch, please, it's Queen."<br>"This band with the faggots? This is shit. 50 Cent, Pitbull, Rihanna, Nicki Minaj, that's real, good music."

Arthur said nothing. He just came closer to the bed, grabbed Alfred by the collar, dragged him across the flat, and threw him out onto the landing.

"Never come back. I'll kill you."


	3. Too Frenchious

Hello everyone !

I'm on a rush lately... Anyway thank you SimplySalted for checking, and put up with my droning, and thank you for thanking me and being sorry for absolutely nothing. And thank you all for the follow/faves/reviews !

(Well, I don't know why I am shier with you guys... Sorry)

(Ceux du fandom français: Je ne pourrais pas poster avant un certain temps. Je poste donc un chapitre de "Sheol" demain, et la suite arrivera... Wouh, avant le bac j'espère. Non, totalement avant le bac, ça serait terrible sinon. Sinon j'vous kiffe, juste comme ça.)

So, go back to Alfred and Arthur's peregrinations !

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><p><em>"All we hear is Radio gaga, Radio goo goo, Radio gaga…"<br>"_Fuck, Arthur ! Let me in ! I'm in my pajamas ! I need my breakfast !"

Alfred was hitting the door for at least fifteen minutes, deciding he now _hated _this landing with all his heart.

"Euh…_ Bonjour."_

The teenager froze. There wasn't _really _someone who was seeing him _like this, _wasn't it?

He turned around, to see in front of him a blond man, with long curly hair in a ponytail. He seemed to have forgotten to shave for a few days, and he was wearing fancy clothes. He had a beautiful bouquet in hand, and he looked incredibly… chic.

"Why are you knocking on the door of Arthur at eight the morning, _petit?"_

He was _definitely _not British, and was pure shit with his English. His voice was suave, but his accent heavy, and he spoke sooo slooowly.

"He threw me out when I said his music was shit" Alfred explained, annoyed.  
>"Oh… You sure should have at least have criticized <em>les<em> Sex Pistols, _non_ ?" the man said, grimacing.  
>"Actually, it was Queen."<br>"Aw… You should be happy to be again alive."

Alfred looked at the man, sighing.

"Man, you sure are hopeless in English. What was this 'again' for ?"  
>"<em>Excuse, gamin<em>, I'm French," the man explained, annoyed. "We say your 'still' and your 'again' in the same way, and I never know who I must be using."  
>"And if it was only that…" Alfred grumbled. "I listen to you for not even two minutes, and I already want to commit suicide."<br>"_Les sirènes du port d'Alexandrie, chantent encore la même mélodie, wowo, la lumière du phare d'Alexandrie, fait naufrager, les papillons de ma jeunesse!"_

The man sighed as he heard Arthur singing such a shameful song at the top of his voice in the flat, and knocked at the door, not wanting to stay with this ungrateful teenager any longer.

"Arthur! It's me, Francis! I know you're here, I _heared_ you sing ! Can you open the door, _s'il te plaît ?"_

A few seconds later, the door opened, to show an utterly red British man.

"Haha, Francis… So… you heard me sing ?" Arthur said, more than embarrassed.

He turned all shades of red at once. Francis laughed, and poked his forehead.

"Happy to see that you like the CDs I lend you, but even for a French man it's dishonourable to sing some Claude François. Even if you sing well my Cloclo!"  
>"Just… shut up. "<p>

Alfred took advantage of the fact that the door was open to rush in the flat. The teen lolled in an armchair, in front of the TV, releasing a sigh of satisfaction. Arthur took Francis to the kitchen, far off from the American boy.

_"Cadeau_," Francis said, giving the bouquet to Arthur. "You sure make a really good Claude François. There is actually in France a lot of TV shows trying to find the new Cloclo, you should try."

The British man became even redder as he took the flowers.

"How long will this surname be stuck on me ?" he asked.  
>"At least a month. But I preferred your precedent surname, if you know what I mean…"<br>"It's really the only sentence you're able to say without mistakes" Arthur sighed.

The Frenchman giggled, and came closer to Arthur. Before the English man could even notice it, the other had grabbed his ass.

"What are you doing ?" inquired the blasé English man.  
>"Why do you even ask ?"<br>"Wait, the brat is in the living room…"  
>"Make him leave" Francis whispered in Arthur's ear, leaning closer in the most mellifluous voice he had.<br>"Hey hey hey, wait… I… Stop this !" the British man managed to shout.

He broke away from the embrace, and popped his head around the door, watching the angry teen on the armchair.

"What?" the teen groaned, focused on the TV.  
>"Go buy some… Pastries… In the French pastry shop. The one which that's on the other side of the district."<br>"What? But I'm in my pajamas, I don't have money, and I don't have a clue where the fuck it is!"  
>"There are a few coins in my wallet, in my trench. And go… by foot. And walk around. And take your time. One hour should be enough."<p>

Arthur peeped back in the kitchen, and made an awful smile.

"Well, count two hours."

…..…..…..

Alfred finally managed to go back to the flat, two hours and thirty minutes later. Just in time for lunch. He had the box of French pastries under an arm, and a half-empty drink from McDonald's in the other hand.

Francis had already left the apartment, and just left behind the bouquet and the scent of an expensive perfume. Alfred threw the now empty wallet onto the couch, and went into the kitchen, looking for his caretaker.

"I found your pastries" the American said as he sat at the kitchen's table.  
>"Sweet" Arthur answered, looking away from the stove. "What did you get?"<p>

Alfred opened the box, disclosing its half-emptiness.

"No idea, but man, they were good."  
>"You ate them ?"<br>"I was lost and hungry, dude! Thank god, I managed to find a McDonald's, because I was thirsty too."  
>"You ate them ? You really ate them ?" Arthur stuttered. "You didn't think I already hated your guts enough, so you had to eat <em>my <em>pastries too?"  
>"Cool, man… There is still the half of the box."<p>

The British man looked closer, and finally smiled.

"Aw, sweet, there's still an _éclair au café. _My favourite one." Arthur explained, pointing out a long brown pastry.

Alfred watched it for a few seconds. And he took the _éclair _and shoved it into his mouth.

"If it was your favorite…" Alfred grinned.  
>"You little jerk. You didn't dare…"<br>"Wantit back?"  
>"I don't know if you did that on purpose or if you're simply a retard."<p>

The phone in the living-room rang, giving Alfred a chance to survive. The British man took the rest of the pastries, and went answer the phone. The teenager, bored, decided it was a great occasion to visit the flat. So, the brave Alfred and a sandwich set off to explore the apartment, in search of something compromising about the British man who didn't do anything else than grumble, yell, and sulk since he arrived.

Arthur had visibly managed to tidy the guest room up, the only thing Alfred would have to do was put his clothes in the chest of drawers. And now that he had the time to watch more closely, the teenager regretted that he hadn't taken some posters with him, because the walls were covered with posters of weird old English bands with weird names and even weirder make-up. And some were really scary. Like the one right in front of his bed. Man, he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight.

Next to the guest room was the bathroom. There was water everywhere on the floor (Arthur should have taken a shower before Alfred came back), and it was hard for Alfred to cross the tiny room without soaking his socks. Next to the sink, Alfred found too much make-up for a single man, three bottles of temporary green hair dye, two toothbrushes, and a substantial stock of condoms. Okay. His caretaker was definitely bizarre.

Alfred then peeped in Arthur's room. Contrary to what Alfred thought, the sheets were in a mess, the nightstand open, and it reigned a scent that was… peculiar. Alfred was sure he had already smelled this in his mother's bedroom. But he would check this room later.

The last room (like Arthur was still in the living-room) was the office. Like always, the room was clean, and all Arthur's junk was sorted and in its place. Two guitars were hanging on the walls, and an enormous collection of DVDs, CDs, and vinyls were proudly exposed. On the desk was an old computer and a laptop, along with a mountain of documents in lots of colored folders. The red ones were labeled "Bills", the orange: "Important stuff", and the yellow: "Don't throw, it can be useful someday" (It was full of flyers and plans to survive to a zombie apocalypse). The indigo folders were full of annotated music sheets and lyrics. (Very difficult songs, by the way. Who learned such complicated lyrics?) Underneath, Alfred found purple folders, with a lot of written and printed stuff. The texts seemed to be about mode, personal problems and gossips about stars (At this point, Alfred decreed that nothing could make Arthur even more weird). There were also green folders, with a lot of cut out articles and written stuff in a language Alfred didn't understand, and some blue ones who were labeled "Book Project".

"What'e you doing, brat?"

The teenager jolted, and dropped the blue folder on the desk.

"I was… exploring."  
>"In my office? Disturbing my documents for work?"<br>"Dude, aren't you unemployed?" Alfred asked, trying to remember what his mother told him.  
>"That's what your stupid wanker of a mother believes. We see each other three fucking times, and she thinks she knows my whole bloody life." Arthur snapped, visibly pissed.<p>

Alfred shrugged while sitting on the comfortable chair.

"Well, you should know each other pretty well, she wouldn't have sent me here otherwise…" the teen said.  
>"No. We've literally only seen each other three times. Your aunt's marriage, great-uncle funerals, and grand-father funerals. And I hardly remember her, I was completely drunk."<p>

The American boy sighed in despair. His mother would be the cause of his death someday. Arthur could be a rapist or a serial killer, who knows? Well, if it was the case, Alfred should at least be polite and nice, maybe like that Arthur would do his… job… quickly and neatly.

"Uhmm… so, what's your work ?" the teen risked.  
>"I'm a journalist. I work for a stupid women's magazine and a French online magazine. It's boring. Well, at least, for the online magazine, the subjects are okay and I'm pretty free."<p>

Alfred smiled disdainfully in front of Arthur's depressed face.

"Oh, and like all the journalists you hate your job but you dream of the day you'll become a newscaster and all that, don't you ?"  
>"Absolutely not," Arthur replied. "I want to work in the press, but for <em>The<em> _Times_."  
>"<em>New-York Times<em> ?"  
>"You moron."<p>

Alfred giggle, pleased with his joke.

"More importantly. You, a 'true Englishman and so on and so forth', work for a _French _magazine?"  
>"Yes, Francis found me this job. He works for it too, he presents recipes every month. He also does it for the women's magazine, and I correct his text every month, thanks to his poor English. I don't even know why they keep him… Maybe because having "La r<em>ecette du mois du chef Francis: Les tripes à la mode de Caen<em>" on the cover sounds good."  
>"So, you speak French?" Alfred inquired, a little lost.<p>

Arthur only applauded quietly, one caterpillar raised.

"Bravo, Sherlock. I don't know how the bloody hell you found out my terrible secret."  
>"But Englishmen hate French people !"<br>"I do hate them, but I prefer for them to the little annoying American busy bodies, you see? By the way, I'm pretty happy, I won't see your face all day long anymore. I just had my teacher friend on the phone, he takes care of the applications for school. You begin tomorrow."

Alfred, who was radiant until then, bolt upright, thoroughly depressed.

"What the problem, kiddo? You don't like school?"  
>"I <em>liked <em>it, back in _my _old school. You know, the one where I knew the people and the people knew me?"  
>"Yeah, sure, you were the jock and all, and you were the most popular guy who had all the girls after him, correct?" Arthur said sarcastically.<br>"Exactly." Alfred snapped. "And I was the captain of the football team."

The British man chuckled, happy to see the younger one this angry over nothing.

"Don't worry, I anticipated that. I asked my friend about it, he said there were still places in the football team. You may be a part of it, if you want to."  
>"Really ?"<br>"Sure. Now, go in the kitchen or the chicken will burn."

* * *

><p>AN: Talking like Francis is the worst way to learn a language. Don't do it. When you don't know a word, use a periphrasis. When you know a word, use it. And find a way to improve your grammar.


	4. Puh

Hello everyone ! I wanted to thank you all for the watch/reviews, and simply for reading !

So, another chapter of "Giver him a try". Really, thank you Gill for checking it, you did a huge work and I'm really, really thankful.

(Pour ceux du fandom français... Donc, c'est certain, pas de chapitre avant le Bac, désolée. Mais bon, si je me dis qu'il faut que je tape, je foutrais vraiment rien. Parce que sérieux, moi et mes révisons... On a l'temps, on a l'temps... De toute façon, Meri -qui me corrige- doit être plus dans ses cahiers que moi, donc je vais pas l'embêter. Par contre, après le bac, y'en a quelques-uns qui devraient sortir.)

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><p>"Hey, man…"<p>

Arthur, who was working on the computer, turned towards Alfred, in the office's doorway. The teen was in his pajamas, a brand new laptop in his arms.

"Yeah?"  
>"I can't get Internet in the guest room."<br>"That's normal, my connection is awful."  
>"Can't you fix that?" the teen grunted.<br>"I'll see what I can do tomorrow. You can stay here for tonight."

The American boy sighed, and lolled in the little sofa, his laptop on his knees.

"D'you know why I can't send texts to my brother?" Alfred suddenly asked.  
>"Are you sure you used the good country code?"<br>"Well, I was able to call him when I landed…"  
>"So, do you have some credit left?"<br>"'Course, I have unlimited calls."  
>"Kid, you're abroad."<br>"Oh shit."

The two of them stayed silent for a while, except for the sound of typing.

"Do you have any white shirts with you?" Arthur asked.  
>"Mmh ? Yeah sure, one or two, why?<br>"You must wear one of them tomorrow, because you won't have your uniform immediately. "

Alfred stopped a few seconds, and turned his head toward Arthur, dumbstruck.

"My _what?"_  
>"Your <em>uniform<em>. You know, the clothes you will have to wear at scho-"  
>"What? There are <em>uniforms? <em>Are you still in 1500 or something? I have to _wear _some awful day-glow yellow pullover to _match _everyone? No way in hell, dude."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, sipping his tea.

"Actually, it's extremely simple. Only a white shirt, a tie, black trousers and a dark blue pull-over. And it seems that's you're pretty free with it, I already saw a few Chinese kids with their duangua instead of a shirt under the pull-over."  
>"But… I can't!" Alfred shouted. "It's against my principles! I <em>can't <em>accept to wear a uniform, for the sake of freedom!"  
>"Freedom my arse. Otherwise, you can compromise like this one guy did back when I was still in school. He was an exchange student, and didn't want to wear a uniform. So, the principal told him to wear it or to wear nothing at all."<br>"Weeeeell, very interesting, dude." the teen sighed.  
>"It was. He actually went around naked for at least two hours. Someone put the photos on Facebook last month, if you want to see."<p>

Arthur smiled as he saw Alfred grow pale, and put his mug down on the desk.

"So, I guess you'll be needing a tie, then?"

…..…..…..

"Are the girls hot in this school?"  
>"Sorry, kiddo, I wouldn't know. I don't check out underage teenagers."<br>"But doesn't your friend tell you about them or something?"  
>"Please, just shut the fuck up before I stop the car and I leave you on the pavement."<p>

Alfred rolled his eyes, sighing loudly to emphasize his state of irritation. He had to wear a shirt, a prickly pull-over, and a fucking _tie._ Moreover, Arthur was a total jerk. And he listened to shitty music. And he had a Mini Cooper, and that was really gay, man.

"What does your friend even teach?" the American asked, trying to drown out the shitty music. (The Cops, or something. Wailing about a Roxanne.)  
>"Economics."<br>"Shit, I wanted to take Economics. Otherwise, I would have liked to pick Chemistry, Religion, or something about computers."  
>"And which language?"<br>"None. I speak English."  
>"You will pick one. I hate those stupid Americans who think that because they speak English, learning another language would be useless" Arthur spitted.<br>"So, no French, you'll only try to help me and I don't want you to." Alfred grumbled. "German, maybe."

The British man chuckled, amused with the stubbornness of the teenager.

"Ich spreche Deutsch. Ich bin glücklich, weil die Sonne scheint."  
>"Mmh…. Me gusta Spanish" the teen replied.<br>"¿Cómo esta dan la casa? ¡Está bien!"  
>"Are you fucking kidding me?" Alfred shouted.<br>"This time? Totally. And watch your-"  
>"Language, I know…"<p>

They quickly arrived in front of the school. Alfred jumped out of the car, happy to leave his stupid caretaker. Well, until he noticed that his stupid caretaker was following him.

"Hey! What are you doing, old man?"  
>"Er… You need me for the applications, and-"<br>"What? I can take care of myself! I don't need you!" the teen shouted.

Arthur just raised a caterpillar, already knowing that it will end up in a stupid argument.

"Alright, so, you know where you have to go, and who you have to see, and-"  
>"Of course! The Economics teacher, you said it!"<br>"Hmm… Which one? And where is he?"  
>"… Well, fuck you, old man."<p>

…..…..…..

A few minutes later, the both of them and the teacher were in the hallway, all of them pleased with the fact that all the papers were filled out.

"Are you happy?" Arthur asked to the down teen next to him.  
>"I couldn't be anything less!" the teen said ironically.<br>"At least, you can continue the same subjects that the ones you had in America… I will find a solution for your awful level in Spanish, though."

Alfred sighed, already regretting his choice to learn Spanish.

"Didn't your friend just say that he spoke Spanish?" the teen asked, pointing to the blond Economics teacher next to him.  
>"I said I spoke German, French and Italian" the teacher retorted.<br>"Ain't Italian and Spanish the same thing?" Alfred naively asked.  
>"Arthur, I pity you" the teacher sighed.<br>"It's even worse than that, Vash. Way worse. Well, I must leave you, I have to go. Alfred, be nice and don't mention everywhere you go that you're American, don't miss the bus to go back home, and don't get involved in fights or whatever you did back in your old school, my dear… Mmh, what did she write? Oh, yes. My dear sweetie-sweetie pie."

And with that, Arthur left, carrying less of a burden on his shoulders. Alfred was enraged, seeing his caretaker leave him in the unknown like that, without any remorse.

"Come, Alfred," the teacher ordered him. "I'll bring you to your Math class"

Mister Zwingli led him into a classroom on the other side of the building (Alfred would of never been able to find his way by himself…) and made him enter in the room, behind him.

"I have a new student for you" Zwingli said to the teacher, before muttering "Be careful, I think he's a little bit retarded ."  
>"Oh… Okay" the old Math teacher replied. "So, introduce yourself."<p>

The teen glanced at the room, full of students about his age, and said:

"Hi, I'm Alfred F. Jones and I'm American! I've been here for two days and I already hate this country and my caretaker, even if it hasn't rained yet, and I really wanna go back to Chicago, but I hope we'll all get along!"

Zwingli rolled his eyes, sighed a quiet "I told you", and left the class, letting the poor teacher deal with this moron.

…

"Hey, Arthur! A letter for you!"

Arthur looked up at his coworker, who almost threw himself on the desk, an envelope in hand.

"Well, it's a letter, wanker, no need to be hyper like that."  
>"But it isn't any letter! It is a perfumed letter, with lipstick on it, sent to your office! You're having an affair, aren't you?" the brunet sang, pleased with his deduction.<br>"Antonio, to have an affair, I must be in a couple, don't you think? I'm just saying that in passing…

Antonio leaned correctly against the desk, seeming lost in his thoughts.

"Aren't you?"  
>"You of all people ought to know that that's not exactly the case. Francis is your best friend, right?"<br>"Well, you can say what you want, but I think you two are a great libertine couple~"

Arthur sighed. Not again this talk. "So, this letter?"

"Oh, yeah. Here it is!"

Arthur took the envelope, staring at Antonio, who didn't seem to notice that he wasn't wanted. The British man coughed. Twice.

"It's useless, I'm going to stay here, you know?"

The blond sighed, and opened the letter, in front of his very excited Spanish coworker.

_Dear Artie,_

_It's your cousin again!_

Oh shit.

_I hope my Alfie-sweetie was nice with you when he arrived. I know that he can sometimes be rude, but it's okey, he's American. I read the other day in "Dog Fancy Magazine" that it was important to begin the training immediately, so I hope you already started his education! I really want him to become as respectable as you, you know? I hope you found a great school, too, and I hope he will have a lot of friends, like in his other school. My honey was so popular, a real playboy! I hope he will have a girlfriend! Learn him how to charm women! (In the latest news, he was still to the phase _ _to do the helicopter with his ding-a-ling) I also hope that he will learn to eat something other than McDonald's…  
>I know that I have hope for a lot of things, but you're my last hope before juvi…<em>

_Lot of love, for you and my honey bunny!_

_Your wonderful cousin~_

_PS: I am writing this from the airport, I just landed in Bali and I'm spending this tripwith this awesome man, and we maybe will spend more time together, if you know what I mean…_

_PS²:I said that I wanted Alfred to become like you, but if he could avoid your habits of smoking like a chimney and drinking alcohol like a fish, that would be appreciated…_

"As time goes by, the more I hate this woman."

"Who is it, who is it, who is it?"

"My cousin. She has sent me her son for a few weeks… He's a real pain in the ass."  
>"No, he <em>can't <em>be _that _horrible, can he?"  
>"He's <em>American<em>."  
>"Ouh, he must be a pain in the ass."<p>

Arthur only sighed, placing the letter on the desk. Seriously, Alfred was about to go in _Juvenile Detention_? Or was this stupid mother of his just exaggerating things, like always?

"Hey, Antonio, you _do _speak Spanish don't you?" Arthur inquired.  
>"Well, I <em>do <em>am Spanish, and I _do_ lived in Spain for twenty years." the brown-haired man replied.  
>"We can hear that" the British man sighed. "Anyway, would it bother you to give him a few Spanish lessons?"<p>

The Spaniard pretended to think for a few seconds, before answering, with a huge smile:

"Of course I would mind!"

Arthur winced, already feeling the headache coming.

"What? Why?"  
>"Well, you just said that he's the worst person on Earth!"<br>"It was a _joke,_" Arthur brazenly lied. "he's a real angel. You'll love him from the bottom of your heart. So say yes? I also feel like I have to remind you that_ I_ didfetch you from the police station in the middle of the night last week."  
>"Oh, Saturday night? Man, you should have come with us, it was awesome."<br>"No, thanks" the blond spitted. "You perfectly know that I don't like you and Gilbert enough to hang out with you when Francis isn't here. Actually, the feeling I have towards the both of you wouldsound more like 'hate'."  
>"And Francis magically makes the 'hate' disappear?" Antonio asked, raising an eyebrow.<br>"Absolutely not, I hate him as much as you, but at least he had some arguments diverting me."

Antonio didn't bother looking further, used to Arthur's bad temper. The man could say whatever he wanted, but he was the first to enjoy a night with them. (Well, actually he only truly enjoyed it when he's drunk, but nights like those are made to be drunk, that's not a problem.)

"I will see what I can do. This weekend? Justine is studying non-stop, and Lovi is in practice, so I have nothing to do anyway."  
>"Sounds great." Arthur replied. "Now, let's just hope that he at least learns easily.<p> 


	5. Nothing better than football

Hello ! It's been a while. -It's because I passed my exams ! I had 18/20 in English ! And I had 8/20 in German and 10/20 in French but... Weeeell.

Anyway, thanks everyone for reading, and thanks Gil for the correction... Reaaally, more than thanks actually. You're a saint.

A few OCs and characters with no official name will appear here ! Don't worry, I don't use OCs for pairings or anything, they won't even have significant roles, it's just figuration. So, a few names I use: Mei Lin (Taïwan), Anh (Viêt-Nam), Xiang Horace (Hong-Kong), Jendrik (Iceland), Keith (New-Zealand), Zamfir (Romania), Vladimir (Bulgaria), Amartya (India), Simon (Cameroon). For the OCs: Sion (Israël), Béchy (Moselle), Manoel (Brazil) and Wilson (Nobody. He's just here.)

* * *

><p>During the break, before Alfred could even stand up, two Asian girls were already in front of him, all smiles. (Well, the smallest anyway, the other looked like she was forced to come with her)<p>

"Hello! I am Mei Lin, and this is Anh!" the smallest said. "Pleased to meet you!"  
>"Nice to meet you t-"<br>"Thank you! Your name's Alfred isn't it? I have a hard time remembering names. Oh, I know!" Mei Lin chirped. "I will present you to all the others! So, look look look, I show you!"

She sat on a chair next to Alfred's, and pointed out a few boys chatting together. (Well, actually, a thin brunet was attempting to… rape… the arm of a blond muscle-man, in front of a totally indifferent Asian.)

"The big blond is Ludwig. He's nice, but he doesn't talk too much. The brunet is his best friend, Feliciano. He's really sweet, but not really wily. And the last is Kiku. He's rather quiet, but if you have a problem or a question, go see him."

Alfred nodded, wondering if he will be able to memorize all those information. Pretty sure he won't.

"Those two are Feliks and Toris." Anh said, pointing two-long haired boys a little farther away, exchanging books. "Feliks is the blond and Toris, the brown… I don't really like them, especially Feliks, he's really a bigmouth."  
>"I don't mind them personally…" Mei Lin retorted.<br>"You mind nobody, Mei."

Mei Lin chuckled, and showed Alfred two girls who were about to leave the classroom, one looking upset and the other asleep.

"Sion and Béchy. I only talk to them because we're in the same sports team, otherwise they are pretty petty. And them," Mei added, pointing out an Asian and a pale blond boy, "they are pretty petty too. Horace and Jendrik. They hardly talk to other people."

Jendrik was the blond, busy choosinga song on his iPod, and Horace was the Asian boy, and he had…

"My god, those eyebrows…" Alfred mumbled, staring at Horace.  
>"Pretty disturbing, aren't they?" Mei Lin answered. "Keith has the same ones", she added, pointing out a blond with curly hair, who chatted happily on his phone. "And finally… This is Amartya, Yong Soo, Vladimir, and Zamfir."<p>

Amartya was an Indian boy, with a tilaka in the middle of his forehead, Yong Soo, an Asian, busy to shout something stupid about light bulbs, Vladimir was the brown guy eating a yoghurt, and…

"Oh my god", Alfred managed to articulate, staring to the strawberry-blonde Zamfir, who was watching Yong Soo with lot of interest. "Is he… A vampire?"

Anh grimaced in front of such an amount of stupidity, before looking at Zamfir. Okay, he had sharp canines, he was pale and he was drinking his favorite tomato juice, but, seriously? A vampire. The new kid sure was stupid, to say the least.

"A vampire, you think?" Mei Lin whispered. "It would explain a lot… But, don't you think it would be awesome? You're new and haven't been here for long and you already discovered a vampire! Like in Twilight!"  
>"Oh, yeah! Are there werewolves too?" A very pleased Alfred asked.<p>

Anh sighed, rolled her eyes and took her bags, going to find a seat somewhere else. No, seriously, she couldn't handle it.

"Hey, otherwise, don't you know anything about the sports team?" Alfred asked to Mei Lin. "I wanted to be a part of the football team here…"  
>"Oh, really, you play football?" the Chinese girl chirped. "That's so cool! You should see Ludwig play. He's the captain of our masculine team. Wait, I'll call him. Hey, Ludwig!"<p>

The big blond turned around, visibly happy to have a reason to ignore the brunet glued to his arm.

"The new guy wants to be a part of the football team" Mei Lin explained.

Ludwig didn't have time to reply, then Feliciano let his arm go and skipped along with an enormous smile right next to Alfred.

"That's true? It's awesome! You'll see, our team is really cool, you'll like it! We have training after school today, it's gonna be great with one more! Which position are you?"  
>"Chill, Feliciano" Ludwig sighed. "We can't just integrate him like that. We have to test him before."<p>

Feliciano pouted, and the blond rolled his eyes. Then, he turned towards Alfred, saying:

"Try-outs are at three PM behind the school, on the field. You can't miss it; it's next to the gymnasium. Don't worry about your jersey or anything, we'll lend you everything."

Alfred agreed with pleasure. At least something good happened.

* * *

><p>At three o'clock sharp, Alfred was on the field.<p>

Well, at three o'clock sharp, Alfred wished that he was on the field. Sadly, the Spanish teacher asked him to stay in the class to talk about his… Incredible level in Spanish.

Besides, he really had a hard time with the school. The architect was really fucked up. No, maybe not, but seriously, Alfred just… _couldn't_ find his way in old buildings.

At least he was lucky with his classmates. He was always with someone Mei Lin showed him in classes, and they were all together most of the time, depending on the subjects. All of them seemed nice and willing to accept him, even if he was a little far from the conversation topics.

But now, that wasn't the point. He was lost between the third and the fourth floor and he had a feeling saying that it wasn't exactly the direction toward the field.

He finally managed to reach the field, at a quarter past three. The others were already here, warming up on the field.

"Oh, hey, guys! It's Alfred, the new guy!" Feliciano said, getting up to get closer to the American. "You're late, Alfred." he said, trying to look menacing.  
>"Sorry, the Spanish teacher kept me in class." the blond apologized.<br>"Oh, you speak Spanish? That's great! My older brother learned Spanish as well as Italian, because we speak Italian at home my parents wanted us to take another language. I took French, because it's close to Italian and really useful, and that's great, because in class there are Simon, and Béchy, and Sion, and Ludwig, and the others, and…"  
>"Feliciano, stop rambling" Ludwig behind him sighed, giving him a small knock behind the head with a gate pole. "Go install the poles with Simon and Wilson."<p>

The Italian nodded, rubbing the back of his head, and obeying the other. Ludwig smiled, and turned toward Alfred who wasn't really sure of what to do. The German threw him a round black and white ball, saying:

"So, Alfred, show us what you can do with a ball."

Alfred looked at the ball. Then, back at him. Then, back at the ball. Again, back at him. And then back at the ball.

"Er… Dude. It's a soccer ball."  
>"No, it's a football."<br>"It's a soccer ball. Trust me."  
>"It's a football."<br>"Er, Ludwig…" said someone behind him. "He is American."

The German took two seconds to think, before pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Oh shit."

The others members of the team began to mutter and kick the ground, really pissed off.

"What's wrong guys?" Alfred asked, totally lost.  
>"Yeah, what's wrong?" Feliciano inquired, coming back with a black guy and a tall beanpole.<br>"What is wrong, Alfred, is that we don't play 'football', but, er… 'soccer.'" Ludwig answered.

The American frowned, before asking:

"So… Why are you calling it 'football'?"  
>"Maybe because it is football." Sighed a guy.<br>"No it's not. It's soccer."  
>"God, make him shut the fuck up before I stab him." Ludwig grumbled.<p>

Feliciano looked rather upset. Frowning, he asked:

"Alfred… So, that means that… You won't be a part of the team?"  
>"Of course not, soccer is for pussies. I don't play that. Don't you have a <em>real <em>football team in this school ?"  
>"No, sorry, we don't have an <em>American <em>football team here. Nor do we have a baseball one." Ludwig said ironically.

Oh, that sure sucked. God, he hated England.

"Ludwig, what are you going to do for the competitions?" One of the guys asked (Im Dong something)  
>"Well, I guess that's not for this year." the German sighed.<br>"What's the problem with the competitions?" Alfred said.

Ludwig looked at him, depressed, and explained:

"We have to have at least twelve players for the competitions. Eleven players and at least one substitute. And there are only nine of us. We can use Keith or Toris from the handball and basketball team to complete ours, but we still need one person. Last year, we had enough to play, but a guy –a really good player, by the way, he was in the handball and the basketball teams too- moved during the summer. So… We thought that maybe, you could be that guy we need. It would really help us."  
>"And… The school is not that small. Can't you find other guys in other classes?" the American said, not convinced.<br>"We… Got into a fight with our former team." Zamfir-the-vampire said. "So, we separated. And, considering that people prefer them because they're not like children of immigrants with weird accents, and they're popular jocks…. Well, we have to struggle to have a complete team."  
>"Well, no need to talk." Ludwig cut him off. "We can forget the competitions for this year for football, basketball and handball. We're not enough. Pack up everything, and everyone go home."<p>

Alfred looked everyone, their heads bowed, heading toward the poles to pack away everything. He was even sure that he saw a few tears in Feliciano's eyes.

"Hey! Wait!"

Everyone stopped, turning towards him and waiting for him to say something.

"Er… I could… Be a part of your teams. I mean, I don't know how to play, but…"  
>"Really?" Feliciano yelled, smiling from ear to ear. "You would save our lives! Thanks to you we will be able to make it to the competition this year!"<p>

Alfred grinned too, happy to be helpful. (And, well, they talked about basketball and he did play it. At least, he was sure that he would enjoy one of the sports he did to save everyone's life). Feliciano took him by the arm and leaded him toward the field, beginning to explain the rules to him and introduce him everyone along with some of his teammates. Only one guy stayed back with Ludwig, a short tanned guy.

"Seriously, he looks stupid. Why did you want him in the team so much ? I mean, to the point of lying about the substitute? We could use five guys from the other teams as such. We don't need him that much."  
>"Well, Manoel, he <em>is <em>a jock. I prefer him in our teams rather in the others. And the guys from the handball or basketball teams hate football. They only come help us because they don't want us to be in the shit. If we could use them less often, it would be better."  
>"If you say so. Will he play midfield or defense?"<br>"Midfield I guess. But come, we must finish practicing."

* * *

><p>"And that's how I became their savior!"<br>"Sure, kiddo. But I'm reading now. So eat and shut up."

Alfred raised an eyebrow, seeing his caretaker, busy to read some magazine while eating the… chicken? Arthur had cooked.

"What is this chick magazine you're reading? And why do your glasses look stupid? You look like a cheap hipster with them. And I'm hungry, is there any pasta left?"  
>"It's the magazine I'm working for, as for my glasses: fuck you, and take the leftovers of rice in the fridge if there isn't enough pasta."<br>"You're no fun, man." Alfred said as he took the last of the macaroni in the pan.

Arthur looked up at Alfred, taking his glasses off.

"I'm not here to be fun. And I found you a Spanish teacher by the way. You begin Saturday afternoon."  
>"What? I can't! I have practice!"<br>"Practice? What practice?" the British man asked.

Alfred looked at him, a little bit lost.

"Well… Soccer practice…"  
>"You're in the soccer team?"<br>"That's what I was explaining for ten minutes, happy to see that you are a good listener dude. And you will never guess _what _is in this team!"

The adult sighed and decided to play the game, and said:

"No idea, go ahead."  
>"A <em>vampire<em>! A freaking _vampire _man!"  
>"Sure kiddo. Hey, if they made you drink or smoke weird things to make you better, say it and-"<br>"I'm not kidding! And there is also Vladimir, the vampire's slave! The others are cool. There is this Indian guy, Amar-something, Young So or something, Simon who comes from Cameroon, Wilson who is tall and all, Manoel –he is the best of the team, he is Brazilian- and the captain Ludwig as well asthe vice-captain Feliciano. Feliciano seems stupid and all, but he's nice and good at soccer."  
>"I know Feliciano and Ludwig. I also know Feli's brother and Ludwig's cousin. They're nice guys. But I'm surprised that you like football. What is your favourite team?"<p>

Alfred thought a few seconds, before saying, hesitantly:

"Er… Chicago Bears?"  
>"You don't know anything about football?"<p>

The American made a little movement with the hand to say so-so. Arthur sighed.

"Well, if anyone asks you, you're a fan of Arsenal."


End file.
